


The Cold North

by arcanetrickster



Series: The Hunter and The Boar [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Friends, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Eventual Smut, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Height Differences, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Pining, Tragedy, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanetrickster/pseuds/arcanetrickster
Summary: After Dimitri was captured, Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid retreated to the Fraldarius estate to aid their fathers in the war effort after their class fractured to hide from the new emperor. The Fraldarius family home, a sprawling estate that spanned acres, was still not big enough to keep Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid apart. All Felix wanted was a moment alone to consider Dimitri's capture and how to get him back. All Sylvain wanted was to keep Felix out of his own head.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: The Hunter and The Boar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521293
Kudos: 20





	1. Snow

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fun sort of prequel to my other FE3H fanfic I completed the other week. This one details what happened during the timeskip and the war efforts with Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid.

The snow came early this season.

Felix watched it start to drift down from his bed, knowing he should get up and help with the war plans. He tried summoning the effort it would take to deal with Ingrid’s father, Rodrigue, and Sylvain, but found himself burrowing further under the fur and silk covers to watch the snow. It could wait. The prince was captured, everyone was in hiding. Edelgard wouldn’t kill her only bargaining piece, he hoped. That’s what everyone kept saying in the war room at least.

The mountain range just past his window started to blur as the snow came down in big fluffy clumps.

For a minute, he could pretend everything was fine. He could be eight years old again, his brother would be downstairs playing swords with the prince on one of the Royal Family’s estate visits. Their fathers would be critiquing their forms.

The door to his bedroom slammed open like a thunderclap.

He retreated further into the covers.

“Fe! Quit moping! Get up!”

Felix had hoped no sex would’ve made Sylvain curl up into a shell of himself. Or at least calm him down. No. Apparently, it was the sex that mellowed him out. He’d turned into an over-caffeinated golden retriever in his month at the estate. Felix and Ingrid couldn’t escape him.

He groaned into the mattress.

A weight slammed down just near his head before the covers ripped back. The huge redhead beamed, brighter than the snow outside. The smell of eggs and meat wafted down from a bowl Sylvain held.

“Are you head of the servants now?” Felix asked, sitting up. Sylvain’s brown eyes flicked once down his bare torso. The bigger man literally could not help himself, even with his oldest friends. Felix slammed a pillow into his face, taking the bowl before he could drop it on his sheets.

“Sorry,” came the muffled, sing-song response.

“Unbelievable,” Felix muttered, spooning food into his mouth.

“Is it though?” Sylvain laughed, tossing the pillow back to the head of the bed as Felix fully sat up. “Your maids are as frigid as your landscape.”

“Part of their job is not sleeping with the nobles or their guests. Crests and all that,” said Felix. “We pay them well to mind that rule.”

“Well, the nobles here are just as uptight.” He fell back next to Felix with a dramatic sigh, shoving fingers through his hair.

“You can just say, ‘Felix and Ingrid won’t fuck me either.’” Felix offered with a laugh. “Unless you’re also hitting on Rodrigue and Ingrid’s father, which we would need to have a conversation about.”

Sylvain’s face twisted, “Your dad’s goatee is appalling.”

“Which means you looked at him long enough to consider it.”

Sylvain made a tiny shrug, “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been a month, you absolute animal,” Felix scoffed, finishing the rest of his bowl and reaching over Sylvain’s body to set it on the nightstand. It had been eighteen years for Felix and he managed just fine. He also had no clue what he was missing though. “You know the prince is in a cell right? We’re in wartime.”

“Goddess, if I wanted a lecture I would’ve brought breakfast to Ingrid.” Sylvain groaned.

Felix rolled his eyes and drug himself out of bed, leaving the bowl on his nightstand as he went to his armoire. The good thing about being home was no more school uniform. He had tired early of looking like everyone else.

"Any plans for riding today?" He asked Sylvain as he opened the door to the large armoire, watching the other man in the mirror on the inside.

Sylvain's eyes were on Felix's back before sliding to his ass, "Goddess, I hope so."

"Horses, Sylvain. Riding horses." Felix swallowed the heat beginning in his collarbones as he slung on his black and white blouse.

"Not in this weather." He yawned and stretched further onto Felix's bed, showing a sliver of defined stomach as he did so. Felix fumbled for his long vest as he straightened out his blouse and pulled it over top. He rucked on some slim pants over his leggings and pulled his boots from next to the armoire.

He walked back to the edge of the bed and sat, beginning the process of buttoning on the boots. After the arduous task of getting one on in complete silence, Felix was foolish enough to think Sylvain had fallen asleep. A hand tugged at a chunk of his loose hair.

"You are worse than my cat, you know that?"

"Why don't you keep your hair down?" Sylvain asked.

"It's a liability."

"Your father keeps his down."

"Rodrigue is an idiot."

"Why keep it long in the first place then?"

"Because," he paused, the real answer was embarrassing so he shifted for a half truth, "because I like having it like Glenn's."

He was grateful Sylvain couldn't see his face. He had grown his hair out when he was little to be like his brother. He'd kept it this way because a golden haired, blue eyed prince told him it was pretty.

Sylvain would mercilessly roast him for it. "Ah, of course. Do you ever have Ingrid braid it?"

"When we were little, yes," Ingrid appeared in the doorway of Felix's room, leaning into their conversation. "So he finally broke you down, Fe? I expected you to last a little longer than that."

"Hey, don't even. He could've come here from your room for all I know." Felix snapped back. They glared at each other until Ingrid broke and they burst into echoing laughter.

"Alright, that's enough of that," Syl said, shoving himself off the bed with another, harder tug at Felix's loose hair. He tucked a strand behind his ear and grinned. "I only came here because we're now all late." He joined Ingrid at the door as Felix finished buttoning up.

Grabbing his hair comb from the nightstand, he jogged after them to the hallway. He followed his two best friends while quickly twisting his hair into a folded ponytail before securing it with the simple cold comb. But, for just a moment, he considered leaving it down.


	2. Best Laid Plans

Sylvain watched Felix study the map while the slighter man chewed his cheek nearly through as he considered their admittedly low resources. Outwardly, Felix was like smooth water. Like no stone had ever disturbed the surface. Inside Sylvain knew it was a different story. His friends were scattered, the man Sylvain was pretty sure Felix was in love with was a prisoner of war, and he was home surrounded by the ghost of Glenn. He and Ingrid both were. Sylvain could throw a rock in this stupid house and hit a Glenn memorial in some way or another. He was starting to see why it was getting harder and harder to drag Fe out of bed in the morning.

"Is there any news about Edelgard?" Felix asked after a moment of silence. Sylvain thought this was the most roundabout way to ask after Dimitri.

"Some troubling rumors have been stemming from the capital about a trial but nothing has been confirmed." Rodrigue said from the other side of the map, shuffling through correspondence. While Sylvain understood Felix's issues with his father, he was a hell of a lot better than Sylvain's own. "Some families are still unsure if his highness actually murdered his uncle and are waiting it out."

"Loyalty to the crown is fickle to some," Count Galatea said, eyes skimming Sylvain. He pretended not to notice. He was here, wasn't he?

"The boar prince didn't exactly earn respect so much as fear," Felix responded, voice far away. It was almost like he had to force the words out to keep up appearances.

They were all ragging on him about not getting laid in a month but at least he wasn't slowly turning into a ghost and withering away. Every morning there was less and less of Felix left.

"Well, when you're his knight you can help rein him in." Rodrigue said flippantly. Felix bristled. Sylvain made a mental note to start keeping bets with Ingrid on how many times a day Felix's career path came up. Might as well make money off their misery.

"If you're a knight, you and Ingrid would—"

"Absolutely not," Ingrid and Felix cut off Count Galatea simultaneously with the same exact scowl.

"And I have a better chance of being his knight." Ingrid muttered as Felix added. "And I'm never going to be his knight." His cold eyes slipping back to the map on the table. He picked up a rook piece denoting a tentative Leicester alliance and twirled it between his slim fingers.

Sylvain could hardly pay attention to the turn in conversation as Felix worked his fingers mindlessly around the white bauble. It had been entirely too long.

"Regardless," Rodrigue sighed with the disappointment of a thousand fathers failing to live vicariously through their sons, "if we can't have them rally for his highness, we should at least get them to rally against the Emperor. Send some letters to anyone on the line." Rodrigue ordered the Count before looking to the three youngest in the room, "Get a feel for your classmates as well. Even those in Leicester and the Empire. We'll break for today. I still have too many favors that I need to call in." He and Galatea stood and the kids all bowed their heads in varying degrees of respect before the room was quietly theirs.

"I assume we're being discreet?" Sylvain asked the other two, "I can make most of the letters in the guise of checking up on old flames in these incredibly trying times."

Ingrid laughed aloud. A long slow smile curled Felix's mouth like a cat stretching in a sun spot. Warmth pooled in Sylvain's stomach. A smile from Fe was a smile earned. "Who would've thought your philandering would be a boon to the war effort, Sylvie?" He grinned.

"I can definitely be a boon to the war effort right here if you'd let me, Fe," Felix threw the rook at him. Sylvain snatched it out of the air with a wink and was rewarded with a soft flush beginning to creep across Felix's pale cheeks. The other noble seemed to swallow it back quick as it arrived, adjusting his cuff. "We can stay up late writing them together."

"All three of us will be staying up late," Ingrid corrected with an icy edge.

"I am more than comfortable with that. Just didn't know you would be, Ingrid," he grinned, antagonizing the two of them at this point.

"Saints. I'll see you in Felix's room after dinner. Bring parchment, quills, and your seals."

"Yes, ma'am," Felix saluted her like she was Captain of the Guard. She rolled her eyes and huffed out. As the door slammed behind her, Felix's rare smile faded and something shifted in Sylvain's chest, uncomfortable. He tamped the awful flutter down. "If they're trying the boar, even if the charges are shit, there's no way they don't find him guilty for regicide."

"Dimitri has gotten out of tighter spots," Sylvain said, placing the rook back on Leicester.

"Not ones that Cornelia and Edelgard have been helming." He rubbed his metallic eyes and sighed.

"Dedue said he'd get him out."

"What's one man from Duscar going to do?"

"Who knows, but I believed him when he said it."

Felix stood and stretched so he wouldn't have to say anymore. Sylvain watched, silently approving. Felix had always been a scrawny thing as a kid but the training and lessons at the monastery had started to fill him out quite nicely. He'd always been beautiful, but now he seemed strong as well. Most of the girls in the class had noticed too.

The only one who remained oblivious was Felix.

"Can you stop ogling me every chance you get?" Fe asked, flush back on his cheeks as he readjusted his sleeve. 

"Now, now, you wouldn't say you ogle a beautiful painting, you'd say you study it. I'm merely admiring the talent of the goddess."

"How many times has that line worked?" Felix rolled his eyes, delicious blush darkening.

"Counting now?" Sylvain said with a wicked grin, "One for one."

He didn't dispute it, just shook his head and left the room. One day he'd melt down the ice prince but, for now, Sylvain had time to study the maps without the judging gazes of his elders. He took notes, made adjustments to some of the factions still left, and studied the capital where Cornelia sat.

"Hang on, Dimi," he sighed before leaving the room's dying torchlight.


	4. Ghosts

“Dearest Darling Dorothea, Light of My Life and Stars in my Eyes, how does thine body—Sylvie, you cannot be serious with this drivel!” Ingrid threw an allegedly finished letter across the bed at the redhead who had definitely started out strong and was slowly losing steam. They all were. Felix could hardly think of what to put in his letter to Leonnie besides, “hey, still obsessed with swords and Jeralt? What’s Leicester doing to help the Empire?”

At least he hadn’t written that and handed it to Ingrid like it would pass any sort of smell test. Sylvain let the letter hit him in the face and toppled backwards onto Felix’s bed.

“It’s the middle of the night, Ingrid, I can’t do any more,” Sylvain groaned, parchment fluttering from his words. “What are those old wankers doing anyway to help? We’re in war time and they’re still trying to marry you both!”

“You know, it’s better than what your father is doing!” Ingrid snapped back.

Felix’s brows lifted. They were all clearly too tired for this.

“Ouch,” Sylvain muttered, hand to his heart. “Low blow.”

“Rodrigue is trying to get in contact with loyalists in the castle. From Lambert’s reign.” Felix offered. “But that was a low blow, Ingrid. Our fathers can’t stop trying to tastelessly betrothe us.”

“In full view of Glenn’s portrait, no less.”

“Yes, Sylvain, that was the tasteless part you didn’t need to bring up.” Felix hissed.

Ingrid stiffened and started gathering the finished letters from the bedspread. Sylvain sat up immediately, face pinched, “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine. If neither of you will take this seriously, I’ll finish this in my own room.” She shoved everything in the small satchel she’d brought, filled with parchment, snacks, and ink, and slid off the bed in her gauzy nightgown, a piece Felix was still surprised she owned.

“Ingrid,” they said in unison, “we’re sorry, don’t—” The door to Felix’s room slammed behind her in a huff, leaving Sylvain and Felix alone on his bed together in the candlelight. Big puffy snowflakes still came down outside, light shadows against a dark backdrop. Felix hurled a pillow at Sylvain’s face.

“Way to go.” 

“I’m sorry,” he huffed, pulling the pillow from his face.

“You also lost your brother horrifically. I thought you would have an iota of tact about the subject.”

“I know.” He groaned. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Felix sighed and pulled his hair out of its bun, running his fingers through any knots.

“I hate writing these letters to people who were only ever interested in my Crest.” Sylvain admitted after a moment, brown eyes watching Felix in a way that made his heart race. “I know it’s for a good reason. I know it will help us, but it sucks.”

“I know. I’m sorry, too. None of this can be easy for you.” Felix absently pulled his hair to one shoulder and absently braided it as Sylvain rolled onto his back in his open silk robe and leggings. He tried not to stare at the valleys of Sylvain’s abs, his thick thighs and ass that he’d earned from mastering horseback riding. “But we’re all struggling and we can’t keep bickering with each other.”

“Ingrid is rubbing off on you.”

“You’re mad because I’m correct.”

“I am,” Sylvain said, face twisted towards the window, affording Felix a long indulgent look at his profile. Sylvain went quiet as Felix leaned back into the pillows of his bed, watching the snow too while the fire to the right crackled and popped. After a while, he broke the silence, “How does it feel? Being back here with him everywhere?”

“He’s always everywhere,” Felix murmured honestly. “As long as I’m around Ingrid he’ll always be there too.”

Sylvain’s face twisted, “Isn’t that painful?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “As painful as it is for her to see me." He paused. "As painful as it is for you to keep it in your pants."

"Not fair." Sylvain said, slow grin spreading as he turned back to Felix, "I'd wager mine's much worse." He swallowed back the flush threatening his cheeks, but laughed all the same.

"Please tell me how?"

"My two best friends are hot."

"Three." Felix corrected without thinking.

"My two best friends not in jail are hot." Sylvain rolled onto his side towards Felix, robe falling entirely open. His ears got hot, "Which is so much worse, because at least Dimitri has an excuse. You two are just cruel."

"How would you even come onto us? Honestly. I would love to know how you'd convince Ingrid or myself to climb into bed with you." Felix challenged, wrapping his arms around his knees as he glanced down Sylvain's open robe. "Give me the pitch. Ingrid first."

"I can't believe you'd just put me on the spot like this, Fe, I don't even have time to prepare."

"Something tells me you don't need it," Felix laughed back.

Sylvain sat fully up, gaze far away as he pretended to think long and hard about his seduction of Ingrid. "I'd dress up as Dorothea and roleplay us rejecting eligible suitors."

"I'm being serious," Felix said through a laughing fit. Sylvain rolled his amber eyes.

"Fine. I'd start making big gestures of studying and training and taking everything seriously in public instead of just doing it when no one is looking." Sylvain rattled off like it was the answer to a quiz for which he knew the material front to back. He picked at his nails and then looked at Felix. "I'd straighten up, ask her to dinner, and then talk about changing everything so I could become a knight. Then when she finally relents I'll dress up as Dorothea and roleplay us rejecting eligible suitors."

"Mm. So you'd make all of our lives easier? Do all that and you could have yourself a third."

Sylvain grinned, sly. "Yes, but that's not what works best on you." Felix straightened his legs out, leaning back into the pile of pillows. His ears still burned.

"I'm listening, go on."

The sly grin widened, "I'm not going to show you my hand now. Not when it's already working."

Felix's eyes narrowed, "I wouldn't say checking me out in war meetings and bringing me breakfast in bed is working, per se."

Before he could register Sylvain's movements, the bigger man had wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled Felix sharply off the pillows so he was flat on his back. The bed shifted and suddenly the ceiling that Felix was blinking up at was filled with Sylvain. His stomach knotted, putting heat into his veins before he could stop it. Sylvain lifted a big hand and tugged the edge of Felix's braid.

"Two months ago you would've stabbed me if I'd done this," Sylvain whispered, "so, yes, I'd say it's working." Felix's hips begged to arch up into Sylvain but he stayed stone still. The fire crackled loudly. He could hear his own breathing, the blood rushing in his ears.

"You caught me unarmed," Felix tried and failed to keep his voice flat. Sylvain grinned and slid a hand up under the pillows, pulling out a dagger Felix secretly kept there. His heart was in his throat. Sylvain gingerly placed the dagger on Felix's chest.

"Did I?" Sylvain swung off him and the bed gracefully. "I left you a letter you might find interesting under your pillows. Good night, Fe."

Felix couldn't form the words as Sylvain left his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. It resounded with an echo through his room and he waited a proper amount of time before upending his pillows to find a small envelope where his dagger had been.

He paused, considering, before tearing it open with the dagger and unfolding it hastily.

"Dear Felix and/or Ingrid, here's a detailed list on how to unclench—" Felix crumpled it and fed it to the fire, falling back onto his bed. Half hard, he considered finishing what Sylvain purposefully started until he imagined the redhead's smug smile the next morning.

So he didn't give himself or Sylvain the satisfaction and went to bed, frustrated, with hazy dreams of a familiar shy blonde slowly replaced by a confident, rough redhead who took what he wanted and actually wanted him.

Felix woke up harder than ever from the heated, confusing dreams the next morning, early enough that the sun had not yet peaked over the mountains. He rolled away from the light of the window, flush with need, onto his back. The embers in the fire were low, but still radiated warmth into the cold room. He could hardly move or breathe without his cock twitching, aching to be touched.

Fine. Sylvain won.

His hand went low, his breath quickened, his hips warmed and it was over nearly as quickly as it started. He was cleaned up and finishing putting on his boots when Sylvain burst through the door. He seemed stunned to see Felix up and out of bed.

“Oh,” Sylvain said and, for a moment, it was nearly impossible to look at him. His breath sped up, ears flushed, as he could only see the man that had plagued his dreams. Felix pinched the inside of his thigh until the pain overtook the wild thoughts and he could breathe properly again, “do you want to get breakfast together?”

“You seem surprised to see me up? Did you think I’d be writhing in the sheets moaning your name after that little stunt you pulled?” Felix stood and tapped the toe of his boot to the ground before looking up at Sylvain, hoping to sound petulant and not wanting. Because that had been what he was doing and, Goddesses, now that the redhead was here he could imagine doing it again.

Sylvain said nothing, just gaped at Felix momentarily.

Felix glanced down his outfit, “What? Is my shirt on backwards?”

“No, I’m just imagining what I would’ve done had that been the case.” Sylvain’s gape turned to sly, eyes scanning Felix’s outfit. 

“Tch,” Felix sighed, crossing the room and slipping underneath Sylvain’s arm against the door frame, “probably keeled over.”

“Well, that would be one way to get rid of me. Death by delighted shock.” Sylvain said, following him into the hall.

“I’ll be sure to try it next time.”

“Goddesses, yes, please. I’m ready to die if that’s how I go.” Sylvain laughed, hands tucked lazily behind his head. Felix prayed to the Saints to remember to lock his door from here on out, because he knew, with a sinking, molten feeling, that would not be the last close call and that, as much as Sylvain joked, he did not want to blow up this friendship.

Not like that. Not yet, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll post the entire letter Sylvain wrote to Dorothea.


End file.
